


To Find Your Home

by adara



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Beta Derek Hale, Beta Scott McCall, Erica Reyes & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Hale Family Feels, Happy Pack, Light Angst, M/M, Mates, POV Alternating, Pack Building, Pack Mother Stiles Stilinski, Second in Command Stiles, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-08 03:22:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14685402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adara/pseuds/adara
Summary: The wind shifts just as he is is about to lay into the trespassers for disturbing this place, this private property, the place where Laura took her last breaths. Alone. The place he had come to look for his own clues in the daylight, to say goodbye to the only family he really had left. His breath catches for an altogether different reason when the shifted breeze reaches him. He stops thinking about Laura for a moment as his brain simply shuts down, taking in the sight of his mate before him.





	To Find Your Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sisforsterek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sisforsterek/gifts).



> **Prompt:** Object/Word Prompt: Mates and building a pack. Action Prompt: Derek realizes that Stiles is his Mate immediately, so things go differently (Derek doesn’t say “This is private property.”) and Stiles helps him build a new pack and be a good Alpha while trying to solve his sister’s murder. Cora comes back earlier. Stiles can either remain human or take the bite.  
>  **Contains:** Adult language, canonical character deaths, canon-level violence  
>  **Notes:** The amazing swlfangirl read through this for me and it would not be half as cohesive without her insight. She is honestly the best. The title for this piece is inspired by the Cinematic Orchestra song “To Build a Home” and “Hello My Old Heart” by The Oh Hellos. 
> 
> If you're interested in listening to the Sterek-y playlist I listened to while writing this, you can find the [playlist here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLVGrVfSqopkw21rAvnGqDCRjzmaYQA-3w)

It was nearing Halloween of Cora’s ninth year of life when she got off the bus a sobbing mess. Derek had felt a tightness in the pit of his stomach all day and it only grew worse as he was waiting for her at the end of the driveway. But Cora, strong and happy little Cora, she almost never cried and certainly not like this. It put Derek immediately on alert, glaring at the bus driver with all the power his middle-school face could muster. The driver just shrugged back at him and closed the door, driving away to the next stop. Derek gathered her up in a hug, a hand petting down her long hair and the nape of her neck in a soothing pattern while he murmured reassurance. Something was very wrong.  

When she had calmed down to less of a tsunami wave of tears he pulled back to look at her, “Hey, Cor. I’ve got you. Let’s head up to the house and maybe you want to talk about what’s got you so upset?”

She nodded once, gripped his hand with all her strength, and started the walk up their unpaved driveway to the house. It’s not that Cora wasn’t a loving sister, but hand holding was out of their usual range. Derek went with it, giving her the comfort she clearly needed and tried not to wince at the force she was exerting. She stayed silent the whole way but the second the house was in view, their mother and Laura were at the door. They could probably sense or even scent the distress at this distance. Cora ripped her hand from him as soon as she saw them and bounded up to their mother, nearly knocking her over in the process of enveloping her in a tight hug.

Talia looked at Derek in askance while stroking Cora’s hair in the same way Derek had, “There, there my little one. What has gotten into you today?”

Cora unburrowed her tear streaked face from her mother’s abdomen to whisper, just barely loud enough for the other wolves hear, “Stiles wasn’t in school today. His mama-”

Talia made the connection as Cora couldn’t find the words to finish the sentence, burying her face once more. Derek didn’t know the boy aside from him having been in Cora’s class the last few grades. They’d never met, but Derek had been in the car when his mom dropped Cora off for birthday parties or, more recently, had dropped off casseroles at the Stilinski home. His mother was friends with Mrs. Stilinski. She used to come over for tea, especially when Ms. Satomi was in town, and he knew his mother visited with her often but he hadn’t seen them recently.

He looked up at his mother, now sitting on the porch steps with Cora scooped up on her lap and cradled in her arms. He shared a look with Laura, both remaining quiet and looking to their mother- to their alpha- for guidance.

“Oh, little one, I’m so sorry.” Talia said, tears glistening in the corners of her own eyes as she spoke and soothed her youngest. “Stiles’ mama was a wonderful mama, a good person, and a true friend. Stiles will be back in school soon enough, but it’s going to take some time for him to be ok. Wounds like this don’t heal like a cut or a scrape. Things like this are a deep hurt and they take a long time to heal. Sometimes it never does. We just need to be the friends Stiles needs us to be, and it might soothe the ache a little bit.”

“Shit.” Laura said quietly, though they all heard her. Talia gave her a quick pointed look as she threw a hand over her mouth a beat too late. “Sorry, mom. I just- do we know what happened?”

Laura sat down on the step next to them and leaned into her mother’s warmth. Talia pulled an arm around her, keeping Cora snug against her as she said, “Let’s get this one inside, maybe put on a nice movie and skip the homework tonight. I need to make some calls and get dinner ready.”

Derek nodded, stepping forward. “Come on, Cor. I’ll let you pick the movie and you can even have the softest throw blanket from the big couch, I won’t even fight you on it.”

 

***

 

It’s a few years later when Derek meets Stiles, though he honestly doesn’t realize that’s who the boy with the other wolf is at first. They smell strongly of each other, in the way that families do from cohabitation, but they don’t smell like they are actual family. There’s no shared base layer to their scents.

He heard them speaking before he saw them, heart stilling momentarily at the mention of lycanthropy. He is alone here. He is alone in the world. All he has left is Peter, vegetative in the hospital on the other side of town, yet here are these two teens just a slightly younger than him strolling straight into what is supposed to be his territory and he doesn’t know whether to respond to his impulse to fight or to run.

The wind shifts just as he is is about to lay into these trespassers for disturbing this place, this private property, the place where Laura took her last breaths. Alone. The place he had come to look for his own clues in the daylight, to say goodbye to the only family he really had left. Laura, who had whisked him away from the unknown, fatal threat of Beacon Hills, as far as they could get without passports. Laura, who held him when he cried for his mother, for Cora, for their family in the weeks that followed. Laura, who took to being an alpha in the midst of her grief as well as fish took to water. Laura, who had promised him that it would be okay. Laura, who had come back alone when his breath caught in his chest at the prospect of returning, whose last act as his sister and alpha was to save protect him from the pain of returning here.

The shift of the wind carries the breeze straight to him and his breath catches for an altogether different reason. He stops thinking about Laura for a moment as his brain simply shuts down, pausing on the thought of _mine-mine-mine-safe-mine-mine-mine_. He reels back abruptly at the thought, breaking the spell.

The one on the left runs a hand through his closely shorn hair and Derek just looks between them. He takes a deep steadying breath and that somehow makes him less steady, more frantic to close the distance between himself and these strangers. He feels, for the first time this week, that maybe his is not alone. He’s sure something must be showing through his expression and tries to school it back to blankness.

In the beat it takes him to try and collect his thoughts the one on the right shuffles back a step and speaks, “Hey, Stiles, we should probably get going. My mom won’t be happy but we can just call in a  refill-”

But the one on the left cuts him off and addresses Derek, “What are you doing here?”

Derek doesn’t even know how to respond to that. What is he doing here? This is his property, his family’s property.  And this- this is Stiles? His mind hops back a few years as the name catches on and strums some notes in his mind. Stiles.

The one on the right looks confused and looks between the other two at Derek’s continued silence, “Stiles?”

“That’s Derek Hale.” Stiles states calmly, looking at his friend. “Few years ahead of us. Cora’s brother.”

The other one takes yet another step back at that while Stiles takes a step forward, hands splayed out in front of him as if he is calming a critter that’s quick to spook.

Derek takes another deep breath, it doesn’t help. He’s frozen to his spot as Stiles takes another slow step in his direction. Stiles smells amazing, smells like _his._ It takes everything he has not to nestle himself into the crook of his shoulder and just seek the comfort his instincts tell him he will find there. That he is not alone. Stiles is his. He is Stiles’ just the same. Of all the people on this planet, the one with whom they both fit best is the one whose orbit they’ve been in and out of, yet never meeting, for years. Until now.

He wonders for a moment if Stiles can feel even a fraction of what he is in this moment, if the young wolf he is with is picking up on how loud his chemosignals must be screaming at this moment.

“Derek?”

Derek nods once at Stiles, tries to find words and suppress the shiver that runs through him at the sound of his name being spoken by that voice.

“What are you doing here, Derek?” Stiles repeats and Derek feels like those amber eyes are boring into his very soul as he stays frozen to his spot, a strange sensation of rightness settling within him.

He takes another deep breath and looks at Stiles, his mate, and knows he can’t lie at the very same time he feels something inside of him breaking with the admission as he slowly croaks out, “Laura.”

“Shit.” Stiles says, raking a hand down his face and looking quickly from side to side as if he’s hoping he misunderstood and that Laura’s just out here somewhere on a hike. Derek briefly recalls that had been Laura’s own reaction to Stiles’ mom passing but the thought is fleeting, it hurts.

The other teen continues to looks confused but takes a step forward toward Stiles at the same time Derek does, as if Derek is a threat- could ever be a threat.

He’s not sure why he would, Stiles has never met him really before this, but Stiles steps towards him and closes the space between them. He throws an arm around Derek in a half embrace and walks him back towards the other teen, Derek tries his best to not lean into it but is too shellshocked to even react appropriately so he does. What even is his life right now.

When the one with the crooked jaw, the young wolf, tilts his head at Stiles, the answering shake of his head and grim look on his face silences him.

“The girl the joggers found,” Stiles says quietly to the teen as he leads them both back the way they came, forgetting whatever it was they were looking for.

Derek catches the sharp inhalation of breath from the other boy and lets himself be loaded into the back seat of a old blue jeep. The jeep smells like Stiles, smells safe. This is not what he came back to Beacon Hills to find.

 

***

 

Stiles is not surprised when his father gets the call that the girl has been identified as Laura Hale. He’d brought Derek home with him after the foray into the woods, given Scott the spare but near-empty, near-expired inhaler he kept for him in the glovebox from the last time he was due a refill and calls it a day. Derek was quiet the whole time, just watching Stiles or staring off in the distance, looking like he was formulating something to say but always stopping the moment it looked like he was going to.

Stiles has no problem filling the silence. He rambles about lots of things, anything really, while alternately trying to look at Derek and typing away at his laptop. At last he’s printed something out and scribbles on it before presenting it to Derek.

“So this,” Stiles says pointing to one red X on the map, “is where Scott said he found her- Laura, I mean. And this is where he said he got attacked. I don’t know if they’re related but dad says the M.E. thinks Laura was attacked by an animal too so maybe it’s related.”

Derek eyes the map of Beacon Hills, the two X’s and their proximity to his old home. He wants to run but he’s glued to the spot because where else can he go. Everyone he loves is dead. His mate, who is totally unaware, has brought him into his home and is trying to comfort him with snack foods he hasn’t touched and with this map like he’s trying to piece together what happened to Laura.

“Why?” Derek says, finally looking up and meeting Stiles’ eyes for the first time.

Stiles must get that he’s not asking why he thinks the two are related, but the bigger why because what he says back is, “Nobody should be alone, Derek. All I have left since my mom is my dad and I would tear the world apart if anything tried to touch him. Laura and you had each other after- after.” Stiles swallows and takes a deep breath like the memory of the fire pains him just as much, “We are going to find out what happened. It won’t bring her back, but we are going to find out what did this.”

“Who. Who did this.” Derek says quietly, letting Stiles rest a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Stiles doesn’t question him, just simply states, “Not an animal attack then.”

“No.” Derek says. He can’t tell Stiles everything right now but he can tell from the stuff on his desk and from his earlier conversation with Scott that he’s well on his way to figuring it out.

“We’ll find them.” Stiles says, voice like steel. He gives Derek’s arm a squeeze as he moves back towards the computer.

Derek looks back at the map and just wants to put his head in his hands, or even to wake up a week ago when he was still in their shitty little SoHo apartment listening to Laura bitch about her food service job because her passion was undoubtedly photography but she didn’t have the degree or the portfolio to make it on simply a passion in New York City. Every young twenty-something’s problem.

“You’re not wrong,” Derek says as he stands from the bed, leaving the map. Stiles whips around to look at him but before he can speak, Derek cuts him off with, “-about Scott.”

Stiles’ eye bug out at that but Derek’s already down the stairs and out the front door before he hears the wheels on Stiles’ chair push back from the desk and pound down the stairs after him. He ducks into the woods, out of sight before Stiles makes it out the door and sees Stiles scanning the street and the sidewalk for him.

“Damn it, Hale.” He hears Stiles mutter before slamming the door and heading back upstairs.

 

***

 

It’s a few days later when he hears the rumble of Stiles’ jeep as he’s laying in what’s left of Laura’s room. The roof is gone, combination of fire damage and the past few years worth of weather, so he stares up at the cloudless sky and pretends he can still pick up traces of her comforting and familiar scent beneath the wet, rotting wood and ash.

He hears Stiles shut the door to the jeep and step slowly towards the porch, wonders if he had ever been here to visit Cora or to tag along with his mom when he wasn’t home, wonders how he hadn’t met him until now- until the second worst day of his life- when they live in such a small town. Only 20,000 people in Beacon Hills and yet Derek had never met Stiles until they were standing in the clearing he’d just removed half of his sister’s corpse from. He’d ask the universe what the fuck he did to deserve this level of shit to rain down upon him, but he knows. He knows.

Stiles interrupts his thoughts by calling out, “Dude, I really hope you’re not in there but considering that I already checked every hotel and motel in town, if you are in there could you maybe come down here. I know this is technically your house but, like, I don’t really want to go in there. It’s pretty structurally unsound. Like you shouldn’t even be in there. So I hope you’re not but-”

Derek wrenches the front door open and leans against the frame, arms crossed. He doesn’t know what he’s still doing here. He can’t bring Laura back and knowing who killed her won’t fix anything. It’s still his fault for not going with her, not protecting her. His whole family is dead because of him. But he can’t leave.

Stiles runs a hand over his head and pulls a bit at his jacket, a nervous gesture. “Hey, Derek.”

“Stiles.”

“So about that thing, the lycanthropy thing,” Stiles starts and Derek hears the quickening pace of the lub-dub-lub-dub of his heart as he approaches the stairs but he doesn’t smell afraid.

Derek raises his eyebrows in response.

“So, I’ve been reading and I think that what bit Scott and attacked the girl, I mean Laura that is, I mean I think it was not just an animal. The M.E. said the fur they found on her was identified as wolf hair. No wolf could have done that and there are no wolves in this part of California. I think- I think it was a werewolf and I think it turned Scott the night he found her.”

Derek keeps his expression blank but feels the pace of his own heartbeat quickening as well, in time with Stiles’ but for altogether different reasons.

“And I think you know that all already.” Stiles concludes, eyes pausing on the mound of fresh earth to the left of the porch before sliding back to Derek.

Derek supposes he probably could’ve been more discreet about that but, to be fair, he wasn’t exactly thinking rationally at the time. He was panicking. He wanted her to be safe and safe for them always meant going to their mother. Going to their mother now meant going home. Home meant ashes. So there they both stood, on the ashes and charred remains of his home, his safe place, with half of his sister nestled in as comfortably as he could make her, near enough to where she could be considered some approximation of home and safe- but not really safe at all because she was dead.

Stiles broke the silence first, taking a step up onto the porch toward Derek in the doorway, “Derek, what are you doing here?”

It’s an echo of his question from the day they first met. He still doesn’t know why he’s here but he knows he can’t leave. He looks up at Stiles and when their eyes meet, he feels his burn blue and thinks he sees a flash of something flicker through Stiles’ own eyes.

Stiles’ eyes widen but he doesn’t flinch or step back. Derek notices that he still doesn’t smell any fear coming off of him, hasn’t in any of their interactions. Stiles takes another step forward as Derek’s eyes fade back to their normal hues.

“Really, big guy? Werewolves.” Stiles says, a smirk transitions to a large grin on his face.

Derek scowls a bit at the nickname but doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he decides it’s time to address the subject head on now that Stiles put together the pieces. Technically, he wasn’t breaking the whole sworn to secrecy thing since Stiles has already basically figured it out before he’d even seen him in the woods. He never thought he’d tell another human about them after everything that happened but here he is, feeling like Stiles would listen to his life story and still want to keep him. Not that he’s going to go there, because some things need to stay in the past. Some things torture Derek’s thoughts and eat away at him every day, but some things stay buried. None of those things are things Stiles should know. They’re not going to help anyone.

“Scott was bitten. I could tell, we can smell things like that. His blood was on the forest floor, mixed in with the leaves and with Lau- with hers. When he came back to the clearing with you I knew it was him, that he’d been there.”

“But you knew from looking at him that he was fresh meat and a giant teddy bear who would never.”

Derek shrugs and looks around the tree-lined property, everywhere but at Stiles.

“So super-scent capability is a thing. Scott’s also, like, healthier or something. He’s just better. He hasn’t been winded in days and let me tell you that dude could not make it to the second floor for Econ without needing at least one puff of albuterol just last week. He outpaced me on the cross-country track yesterday and didn’t even touch his inhaler. Granted, I’m no Usain Bolt on my best day, but come on. So, superspeed? What are we talking here? And Buffy taught me never to take supernatural stereotypes at face value so- is the full moon a thing? Silver bullets?” He’s on a roll, barely pauses to take a breath.

Derek feels like he’d go on a whirlwind forever if he’d let him so he interupts, “Yes. We have enhanced senses so scent would be one of those. Hearing, too.” Stiles raises his eyebrows at that but Derek pushes forward, “Speed, strength, and healing are part of the package deal. My mother always said the bite was a gift.”

“I can’t imagine anybody asking to be bitten, Scott definitely didn’t. But those are some nice perks, I guess. I’m going to take from that statement that your mother was in the know about werewolves. Were you bitten then? And don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t touch the second half of that. What’s the downside here and how do I keep him safe? What’s the deal with the full moon?”

“It’s his first full moon and he doesn’t have a pack right now, so it’s not going to be easy for him.”

“He doesn’t have to be pack with the one who bit him right? I can be his pack. I’ve kept that idiot safe for the last ten years and I’m not going to stop just because he might sprout some extra fur and glowing blue eyes this weekend.”

Derek doesn’t miss the steady beat of Stiles’ heart when he says that. He has no intention of abandoning his friend. He also doesn’t miss that Stiles didn’t seem to think for a second that Derek was the one who had bitten Scott.

“He won’t have blue eyes on the full moon, or probably ever. That’s… that’s another thing. My mom was in the know because she was an alpha, my alpha, and I was born this way. We had a pack-” he looks behind him briefly then back to the tree, anywhere but directly at Stiles, “And Scott is going to feel unstable without one. The alpha that bit him may have been trying to make a pack, I don’t know. He needs to learn control and this first full moon is not going to go well but, if he’s willing to learn, it will get better. He can control it. We all learn.”

“So you’re going to be his Yoda?”

“I never said I was teaching him, just that he needs to learn.” Derek says plainly, an eyebrow shooting up at Stiles’ assumption. “I am not here for Scott.”

“Fine, I’ll be Yoda but even he had a Jedi Council so you’re going to have to help me out here.”

Derek’s face is somehow able to communicate in varying degrees and combinations of scowls and frowns. The current configuration seems to be saying _oh really, and for what?_

“Don’t give me that look, dude. Scott not going ballistic is just as much in your best interest as it is mine. You’ve kept this secret your whole life. You’re not about to blow your cover over our dumb asses if Scotty blows it on his first full moon and me being mauled would be bad for everyone. And anyways, I can help you find out what happened to her.”

That last sentence comes out much softer sounding than the sharp edges of the preceding ones and Derek starts at the abrupt twist in the topic. Before Derek can speak, not that he knew what he could even say to that, Stiles continues.

“I have access to everything my dad does, whether he knows it or not. His files, both what he brings home and anything in his office, even his desk and the lockup. I practically grew up in that station and I’ve made copies of the keys and emulated key cards to anything I can’t pick up from context and observing them working the case, and I may or may not have learn lock picking on YouTube when I was bored one night. Between that, my brain which never shuts off, and your super powers there’s a good shot that we can figure it out first. Stop it from hurting any more people.” Stiles rationalizes and Derek doesn’t really feel like arguing that.

 

***

 

It sounds too good to be true, too much of a win-win. He shouldn’t be allowing himself to get any closer to Stiles but that doesn’t seem like he something he could put a stop to at this rate. Derek finds himself being not at all surprised by how fluidly they work together, how readily Stiles takes up information and expounds upon it. He had done extensive research, both on what he could find on lycanthropy and on Laura’s case, before coming to Derek and the preparation was apparent. He asked insightful questions and his suggestions on both fronts were not half bad. Derek is not saying that to his face though, he’s already too involved in this, too close. He’s all Derek’s got left now, even if he doesn’t realize it, and Derek will do everything in his power to keep him safe.

The downside of them being an efficient and complementary pair is that they’re going to have to face whatever was strong enough to overpower his alpha. Derek hadn’t been able to beat Laura in a sparring session since she was a beta herself. If he can help it, he is going to keep Stiles as far away from that as possible but he knows that he himself will have to face whoever did this sooner rather than later. He’s resigned himself to the fact that his trip to Beacon Hills was likely a one way that would end the same as Laura’s. At least he got to meet Stiles first.

Derek ends up back at Stiles’ on the afternoons his dad is stuck at the station. Stiles refuses to go to what was the Hale home, claims it is dangerous, that he needs to get a new place to stay if he’s planning on sticking around. He doesn’t know if he is sticking around, though Stiles seems sure that he is. But Derek had checked out of Laura’s hotel room shortly before their first run in, the afternoon he met Stiles. He packed up her bag of clothes and threw them in the trunk of the Camaro, which he took with him back to the only real home he’d ever known. Well, the charred remains of it at least. It would never be a home again.

Much like the alpha power, the Camaro had been their mother’s and passed to Laura with her death. The two of them kept it immaculately preserved but even with their enhanced sense of smell, the scent of their family members faded with time. Their mother’s scent, strongest of all since it was her primary vehicle, was the last to fade.

He thinks of her now, as he pulls to a park in front of the Stilinski house and is briefly reminded of the last time he had pulled up to this house with her. He knows now his mother was trying to support her friend’s family while she slowly slipped from this life. His mother always tried to take care of everyone, help everyone to flourish and to stand by them when times were hard. Somehow he ended up the opposite; everyone he cared about died because of him. He thought of Laura’s bag in the trunk, left untouched because he didn’t want her scent to fade away too. The only thing he had left of her. He pushes the thought away and heads upstairs, Stiles has news.

Scott is there too when he enters the room, though his scent is just as present throughout the house as Stiles’ own. They are frequently attached at the hip, excluding only when Scott is working. Through Stiles, Scott starts hanging around Derek more and starts to trust him, asking him questions and actually considering the responses. Scott’s control is surprising. Stiles is a good werewolf Yoda, human though he is.

Stiles news is not news. Not, at least, to Derek. He knew the alpha who had turned Scott was likely the one to have hurt his sister. Beacon Hills wasn’t exactly rolling in werewolves anymore and it was statistically improbable that a rogue alpha who bites humans without consent would’ve been in the woods at the same time his sister was viciously decimated by a werewolf and have the two events not be related. Both acts were so far out of the normal range of werewolf behavior, as far as the rules and culture he had been raised in at least.

“When he turns on the full moon though, he’s going to be drawn to his alpha right? Or will the alpha be drawn to him? Either way, not to make you bait Scotty, but it sounds like opportunity is not just knocking on the door but barreling us over, whether we are ready or not.” Stiles finishes.

“What?!” Scott squeaks out, “Not ready. Bad plan, bad plan!”

At the same time Derek, arms crossed firmly over his chest and deep scowl set on his face, barks out, “No. Absolutely not.”

Stiles glares at them both, crossing his own arms. “You said yourself that the pull of a pack bond is strong. It stands to reason that one will seek out the other.”

“I’m not seeking anybody out!” Scott protests.

“We will figure something else out. We need to try and figure out who it is first. There’s a few days left yet and maybe, I said _maybe_ Stiles,” Derek says with a pointed look in his direction, “Scott may be able to scent him out but I’m not making anybody bait.”

“Why can’t you scent him out?” Scott asks, nervously bobbing his knee in a movement Derek’s actually become used to seeing from Stiles in his abundance of energy and need for perpetual movement.

“The trail was already mostly cold by the time I got there and the scent profile changes when a werewolf is not shifted. You would be better able to track him, we just have to practice.” Derek says.

“Is that not what I said?” Stiles says looking between the two of them.

“Not really, dude.” Scott says immediately. “What Derek’s saying sounds more like recon- which I haven’t agreed to yet. _And_ I still need a plan if he’s going to be looking for me when the full moon hits. Your plan sounded more like straight engagement. I vote do not engage. Zero engaging the giant fanged alpha thing, Stiles- especially you. You’re human.”

“Noted and noted,” Stiles nods and then pushes them down the stairs towards the living room as he gets the door for the pizza he ordered.

 

***

 

The plan goes out the window when a bus driver and a video store clerk are attacked. By the time Scott is making moderate progress on his newfound super olfactory abilities, two more bodies have turned up in the woods and the three of them aren’t any closer to figuring out who the alpha is and Stiles is trying to focus on anything tying the men together.

Stiles finds his father surrounded in paperwork and case files at the table when he gets home from practice and he’s itching to see what the developments are. The station has been crawling and he hasn’t been able to update his notes on the latest vics.

He offers to grab his dad a drink, a few fingers of whiskey perhaps, hoping it will get him out of the equation enough for Stiles to review all the bounty before him for pertinent information. He’s surprised when his dad shakes his head no.

“Not tonight, kiddo.” He says, closing up another file that’s clearly on the Hale fire and looking like the last few weeks have aged him a decade.

“You look tired there, pops. Maybe you should make it an early one tonight?”

A few hours later, after Scott’s texts him an update that the rain combined with the multitude of scents from the various deputies and officers around the newest crime scene in the woods put a damper on his scent tracking practice with Derek, Stiles is sure he’s outlasted his dad.  He hazards the trip downstairs, skipping to two creaky ones, just in case.

Between his own notes and the assemblage of case files on the tables, Stiles is starting to get an idea. Stiles makes some additional red x’s on the map, indicating the new attack locations, and slips out the back door to his Jeep. He can’t quite clearly see the big picture, but he’s fairly certain that whoever this alpha is has been picking off the arsonists that perpetrated the Hale fire.

If the inclusion of Laura in that bunch means anything, then whoever it is may well be trying to pick off the last remaining Hales as well. Erasing the whole incident, including the Hale family for whatever reason. His dad never had agreed with the assessment it was accidental but with no hard proof, the sheriff at the time wouldn’t let him dig further. Stiles texts Derek to meet him by the Gas’n’Sip in ten and he’s waiting by the entrance with perfect, delicious, straight black coffee when Stiles pulls in. Derek Hale is a gift, Stiles decides.

 

***

 

There was a post-it note on top of the box of s’mores pop tarts his dad left for him on the counter that morning. It said, “don’t go looking for trouble, have a good day at school” in his father’s untidy scrawl. If he only knew the half of it.

Stiles is apparently a trouble magnet and this twisted version of a love note is not recent. Every morning before he would get on the bus when he was little his dad would straighten his hair with some loving pats and say, “stay out of trouble today, kiddo”  and his mom would ruffle it right after it’s just been straighten and say, “have a good day, moje kochanie,” with that glowing, mischievous smile he’d inherited from her.

Trouble then was alternatingly picking fights with or defending Jackson Whittemore, overly ambitious adventures with Scott, or attempted field trips with Cora who knew way more cool forest facts than he did and he _loved_ the forest. He would go looking for trouble, his dad would say, but really is was just a byproduct of his life.

Trouble now is much different.

Now, trouble finds him.

Trouble’s name is Peter Hale.

Derek’s schmoozing the clerk at the front desk so that she won’t notice Stiles slip past, well past visiting hours. Stiles was convinced the next target would be Derek when he explained his thought on the new info and the possible pattern, until Derek reminded him that he had a defenseless uncle in the care of no one but human nursing staff in the long term care facility near the hospital. That would most likely make Peter the next target, they agreed as they looked over the map. The facility was near enough to each of the attacks that it seemed pretty sure to them both.

It’s supposed to be a quick trip, just check on Peter Hale and scope out the unit. Possibly try to figure out the logistics and feasibility of rigging up a webcam so they could monitor at a distance since there was no good way to patch into the facility’s security footage. That was slightly above his pay grade. Derek says he has met the nurse since he’s been back, always the same one assuring him his uncle was fine. But she’s only human and there’s no way she could defend him against an alpha attack, they’re sure.

Option A for this mid-night wellness check is avoid the staff since, even as Melissa’s surrogate son, he has no legitimate reason to be here right now and he can’t even use her as an excuse since she’s on shift in the ER next door and doesn’t cover long-term care. Option B is to say he’s looking for nurse Jennifer to pass on a message from the family and hope that nobody comments on the extraordinarily late hour. Some families are neurotic like that, it could totally work.

What it is instead of a quick trip is an empty wheelchair in an empty room in an empty unit. Stiles is sure this is the room number Derek gave him, the one he’d seen his uncle in the day he came back. Beacon Hills is relatively small, so maybe there aren’t that many patients on the unit or maybe they’d consolidated units and moved him. He’s sure he read something in the news during a late night internet spiral about a nursing shortage too, so maybe it’s totally normal that there’s nobody here, that it’s quiet and bordering just this side of creeptastic.

He hears Derek fake a laugh and excuse himself to take the call with a fake cheery phone voice as soon as the call connects, “Hey, I lost track of time. I’m on my way in now,” he says more for the benefit of the front desk clerk, should she still be listening, than for Stiles.

“I can’t find her.” Stiles cuts in, finding himself somewhat irritated by Derek’s display at the desk even though he knows it is just a planned diversion and he also knows he has no real reason to be jealous. But he feels it anyways and it exasperates him so he’s a little shorter with Derek than he technically needs to be. He’s felt somewhat fiercely protective of Derek since they met in the woods, as if he has any claim to be. But Derek seems to be allowing it thus far so he is rolling with it.

“Just ask for Jennifer. She’s the one that’s been looking after my uncle.”

“Well, he’s not here either. Nobody is. It’s like the staff all went on break at the same time. It’s like eerily quiet.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath on the other end and Stiles can almost hear the gears turning in Derek’s head, “What?”

“He’s not here. He’s gone, Derek.” Stiles glances around the empty room knowing the man is vegetative and not likely to just pop out and surprise him.

Except that Derek interrupts his internal monologue which was starting to veer into a weird mental image of a cucumber jack-in-the-box and why there weren’t more vegetable toys marketed at children besides Veggietales, because really that would probably increase dietary fiber intake or help prevent the childhood obesity epidemic by normalizing vegetables or something.

Derek sounds like he has entirely lost his cool and almost like he’s running, “Stiles get out of there right now! It’s him, he’s the alpha! Get out!”

And with that pronouncement Stiles has entered into 100% nopeville and is ready to nope nope nope right the fuck out of here as a chill goes down his spine. This was supposed to be a quick trip, a well-being check on a vegetative uncle. Instead, because clearly he must have done something terrible in a past life to deserve this shit, he turns back to the door and his mind immediately sing-songs at him _pop goes the veggie_ and promptly short circuits.  

Peter Hale is standing in the hall next to the doorway, covered in burn scars and looking for all the world like he’s deciding between snapping Stiles in half or devouring him.

“You must be Stiles.” Is all he says, voice deceptively soft.

The only thing that could make this creepier is the porcelain doll-looking creeper nurse who also decides to pop out of nowhere and speak, in similar soft tones they must teach in some sort of Villains 101 class, about how visiting hours are over.

“You? And him-” he says, noting the badge that clearly reads Jennifer before whipping his head back to Peter. “And you’re the one who- And he’s the-”

He’s basically trapped unless he can blockade himself in the room. But werewolf speed and reflexes. Plus hospital doors on patient rooms don’t lock. And the windows don’t open further than an inch for patient safety so he can’t even escape that way. Shit shit shit shit shit. He’s running through his options, brain firing on all cylinders and coming up empty.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna die,” Stiles says shifting nervously on his feet and running a shaking hand through his hair. He’s generally good at talking his way through to what he wants with authority figures but he’s never tried on murderous psychopaths. He has a feeling that didn’t work out so well for Laura and isn’t holding out much hope here. Shit shit shit shit shit. “I’m gonna die.”

He only remembers that Derek’s call is still connected and that he probably heard all of that, had heard Peter’s voice, when Derek appears next to him- seriously these fucking people and their reflexes are insane- and knocks the nurse out cold before she can even lay the hand she’s reaching out to grab Stiles. One threat down. Stiles is possibly 50% less likely to die right now but still 100% screwed if the look in Peter’s eye is anything to go by.

“That’s not nice,” he says in his soft voice that is seriously dread-inducing. “She’s my nurse.”

“She’s a psychotic bitch helping you kill people.” Derek spits out, stepping closer to Stiles. He jerks his head minutely and tacks on without missing a beat, “Get out of the way.”

“Oh, damn.” Stiles murmurs, torn between taking the cue and trying to help somehow. What does he even have against something like this. All he knows is that he can’t leave Derek here alone. He doesn’t have any of the mountain ash he’s read about, which he is seriously regretting not looking into a source for more deeply prior to this excursion. Scott’s ringer is off after ten so he knows that’s a non-option, dude wouldn’t get here in time anyways. He is distinctly wishing they had a pack right now and did not just wander into what is, in retrospect, the most bullshit trap he’s ever seen. How did they miss this? It would be hilarious if it weren’t literally terrifying.

Derek spares him half a look more before he’s ducking down and to the side, Peter advancing on them.

“You think I killed Laura on purpose? My own niece?”

The combination of how coolly he says it coupled with how close he’s getting to Stiles, exactly what Derek did not want to happen when he knew he would have to face the alpha eventually, sets him immediately off on his uncle. He can’t let Peter get to Stiles.

Peter had always liked word games, the fact that he phrased his statement that way instead of stating that he didn’t kill her on purpose made it clear he knew Derek would hear the lie if he tried. It’s been a few years but Derek is still fluent in Peter-speak, his blue eyes a permanent reminder that he’d gained that fluency a bit too late in life. Peter is playing a game with him here too, just batting him around. It infuriates him but at least it gives Stiles time to run for cover.

Derek is gaining ground, landing some shots. The surprise factor Peter must have had with Laura to get the drop on her so completely isn’t a factor here, even if Derek’s not as strong as she was. The drive to protect Stiles has his blood bounding in his veins. Stiles has to have had enough time to get to the jeep by now; no matter how this ends now at least Stiles is safe.

Except Stiles is an idiot. He didn’t go anywhere except the supply room behind the nurses station and clambered back out, crouched half behind the desk. Derek’s heart is hammering in time with Stiles’ own, a fact Peter definitely picks up on as he smirks and looks between the two.

“My dear nephew, I just need you to understand-”

“That you murdered my sister and ripped her in half? Yeah, I already got that memo.”

“No,” Peter grins sharply, dangerously as he flings Derek into the nearest wall, pinning him in place with one clawed hand crushing his head and the other on his neck poised to slice. He leans in close to say, “I need you to understand that neither your nor your delicious little pet are getting out of here alive. I’m not done yet. You were always on the menu but if I have to kill him to finish what I started, so be it.”

“That sounds like a pretty shitty plan to me,” Stiles says, sounding much more confident than he probably feels. There’s no way he’s letting this asshole hurt Derek, or kill either of them, if he can help it. He wields a full bottle of Clorox industrial-strength toilet cleaner like a squirt gun aimed right at Peter’s face.

Derek, head pressed as it is against the wall, sees Stiles approaching and his eyes widen in fear for him, feeling defenseless to protect him. But then he sees the bottle. Peter, who had been busy taunting him about their imminent deaths and his plan, did not. Just as Peter turns his head when Stiles speaks. Derek clamps his eyes down tight and waits for his moment of opportunity as Stiles squeezes with all his might. The viscous solution shoots straight out, directly into Peter’s shocked eyes. Peter wrenches his hands off Derek and rubs uselessly at the chemicals burning his eyes and blinding him.

With a furious roar, Peter lunges at Stiles with his claws extended and Stiles’ eyes go wide. He makes to take a step backwards and trips over Jennifer’s prone form on the floor.

Derek reacts before he can even think, there’s no doubt in his mind that Peter is going for the kill right now. All he knows is that his mate just risked his own life for the small chance that Derek would be able to get off that wall and away from danger, and now he’s about to be disemboweled by a raging alpha. Just like Laura.

For Laura, for Stiles- Derek grabs Peter by the scruff of his neck and slams him back onto the dingy linoleum floor. With a single claw he slices straight across Peter’s throat deeply, demolishing both the carotid and the jugular. Peter’s bled out before he can even fight back but Derek holds him down anyways, kneeling over him, cannot let him get to Stiles.

Derek knows it’s over when he feels Stiles hands on his shoulders, gently pulling him back to sitting. Stiles looks down at him, hands framing each side of Derek’s jaw. His mouth is moving. He must be talking. Derek can’t hear. All he hears is ringing and all he feels is- a lot. So much. He is suddenly hyper-aware of everything.

“Derek? Derek? Come on, big guy, come on. Breathe.” Stiles pleads, and the sound finally hits Derek. He looks at his mate, _mine-mine-mine-safe-mine-mine-mine_ everything in him calls as his own eyes flash red and there’s almost an answering flicker of something in Stiles’ own eyes. Derek finally takes a gasping inhale, realizes he was holding his breath. “Good, just like that. Breathing is not overrated. Keep breathing and just don’t touch anything, okay?”

All Derek can do is listen. He vaguely recalls the paramedics after the fire saying something about shock. He feels kind of that same way now. He’s alone. His family is dead. He did this.

Before he knows what’s happening, Stiles is back and so is his father and another deputy Derek briefly recognizes from the station. Before Derek can panic about the, holy shit, two bodies laid out on the floor in front of him and how the hell are they possibly getting out of this, he hears Stiles rapid firing an explanation and commits the story to memory.

“Thought I told you to stay out of trouble?” The sheriff says gruffly, almost exasperated, looking over the scene with a steadying hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

“Me? _Me_ ? _I_ most assuredly did _not_ go looking for trouble.”

“Stiles, we’re literally standing in the middle of a homicide scene.” The older man replies.

“Well, that’s hardly my fault!” Stiles exclaims. “Derek was telling me that the nurse taking care of his uncle had been giving him weird vibes when he visited, something just didn’t feel right like a spidey sense or something, and you always told me to go with your gut so I offered to drive him over for a well-check since it was late and you know I’m a night owl, right, because sleep is for the weak and coffee tastes better when brewed after 10pm and like this is my prime time right here. My most excellent waking hours, and-”

“Son, is there a point in this story where you’re going to get to the fatality here?”

“ _Yes_ , dad.” Stiles huffs, crosses his arms and delivers a mighty eye roll to convey that all of these details are supremely important details. They’re not. But if you bury a lie in truths and an inundation of information, they’re harder to pick up on. “So we come to do a well-check, the girl at the front desk will tell you, and Derek was taking forever- I was waiting in the car, it was supposed to be a quick trip, school night and all- so I called him to see what the hold up was-” Stiles points to the call log on his phone for authenticity, “and he was freaking out so I came in to see what the commotion was and this lady, the nurse lady, was nuts dad. Derek had to knock her out she was trying to attack us. His uncle was already on the ground when we got here, you can see she’s got like toilet bowl cleaner in her left hand and _a freaking scalpel_ in her right hand, like who does this shit? Like did she hate her job, is she just crazy? I don’t even know but she came at us and he just kind of reflexively swung and there she is.”

Derek notices that Stiles has moved Peter’s wheelchair behind him as well, so it looks like he slumped out of the chair when he throat was slit, presumably by the nurse gone wild. The scalpel was a nice touch too. Derek does not think about how it is freshly covered in Peter’s blood, resting in her hand as if it had been there the whole time. As if she really is the perpetrator. But still, they couldn’t possibly be in the clear here.

The sheriff looks to Derek, still seated on the ground next to his uncle. He presses his lips together, scans the scene again, looks at Stiles and shakes his head, “Only you, kiddo. Only you.”

The other deputy walks up, confirms that Derek did in fact check in with the front desk and had received a call to check on his progress. The front desk clerk also throws in the added bonus that the unconscious woman, who’s now being loaded up on a stretcher to be brought next door for evaluation under guard from another deputy, is not an employee at this facility.

The badge she’s wearing was reported stolen and replaced months ago, just before the “animal attacks” started. This same badge, the security guard that is sleepily summoned from his evening post verifies, was also used to access the security office to turn off the video feed just before Derek’s visit while the guard was doing his evening rounds of the other occupied units.

Stiles beams at him momentarily before schooling his features back into believable solemnity, he’s sure nobody noticed as it was so fleeting that even Derek would have missed it if he wasn’t solely tuned in to Stiles’ everything right now, unable to look around. Stiles clearly did not plan on that adding up, but whoever Jennifer really is she’s done a bang up job of helping to frame herself. If the forensics report on the extraneous fibers on her fake uniform happen to come back as wolf hair matching that of the other murders, all the better- though he does _not_ want to know why a wolfed out Peter would have been close enough to his nurse to shed on her.

“Do you need to head next door, get checked out, either of you?” The sheriff asks them, ushering them away from the scene as photos are taken and Peter is loaded up in a body bag.

“No, no, you know I hate hospitals.” Stiles is quick to supply.

“Can- can he be released to me?” Derek asks in a quiet voice, nodding towards Peter’s corpse.

“I’m sorry for your loss, son. I know he was the last family you had left.”

“He’s not alone though.” Stiles says confidently, throwing an arm over Derek’s shoulders, unknowingly staking a claim and Derek lets him. He feels warmed and calmed by the gesture.

The sheriff raises an eyebrow at that, still unused to Stiles having friends besides Scott, and says, “Aaaaaaanyways, once the M.E. clears it, you can have whichever funeral home collect him directly and they’ll handle all the paperwork. We’ll have you both sign your statements tomorrow. Stiles, I’ll expect you right after school.”

“Yes, sir.” Stiles nods, pulls Derek along with him down the maze-like hallways and eventually out into the cool night air and promptly collapses in the comforting safety of the jeep.

“That,” Stiles declares, “was absolutely fucking nuts.”

 

***

 

A few days later, Derek is stopping by the Stilinski home again. Stiles had texted him to come over after school and here he is proferring a bag of assorted snacks as the door opens in some strange gesture of providing for his mate that he hope gets glossed over as a friendly gesture. But, honestly, he feels like he should probably stop showing up every time the teen asks him to or he’s going to start popping dog obedience jokes, or worse start catching on to Derek’s bond to him. They don’t talk about that.

They pointedly do not talk about the fact that Derek ran to him the moment he realized Stiles was in danger, that he had panicked because Stiles was in danger, that Stiles refused to leave him there to die, that Stiles actively chose to engage a murderous psychopath to save Derek, that Derek chose Stiles’ life over his only family, that Stiles was horrifyingly good at staging crime scenes in the presence of nitrile gloves, hospital supplies, and a surprisingly excellent scapegoat. They don’t talk about that.

They don’t talk about how Derek quietly paid to have his uncle cremated and placed in the family plot. They also don’t talk about the other victim, a blond woman identified as Kate Argent, whose death the medical examiner clocked in at approximately two hours prior to Peter’s. The woman was the very same woman that the sheriff was building a solid arson and homicide case against just this week; whose car, when located 50 yards from where her body was found, contained an interesting cache of unlicensed, altered weapons for a substitute English teacher, which led to a very interesting investigation by the ATF into her family’s arms business. More interestingly, an account linked to the business was used to disperse funds to each other the other victims the day after the Hale fire. She had become the not-nurse’s last victim according to the police report. Peter and not-Jennifer must have gotten to her and then been on their way back to continue his cover when Stiles checked his room. They don’t talk about that. At all.

“So,” Stiles starts off with, because if they’re going to talk about anything at all it’s got to start somewhere.

Derek can tell from the uptick in the pace of his heart rate and the vague scent of anxiety hanging around Stiles heavier than it usually does that that’s a loaded conversation starter.

“So,” Derek responds flatly.

“Remember the other day, when I said that thing I hadn’t really thought through before it came out of my mouth?”

The look Derek levels him with speaks volumes, mostly along the lines of _which time_ because as intelligent as he is sure Stiles is, has seen that he is, the teen certainly lacks a brain to mouth filter more often than not.

Stiles has the grace to look sheepish about that and responds, “When I said I can’t imagine anybody asking to be bitten- I um, can I take that back?”

Derek is surprised at that and it must show because Stiles barrels on, “Not me. Still a firm no here. Definitely, 100% human. But-”

“But?”

“Hypothetically,” Stiles begins.

“Hypothetically,” Derek parrots back.

“Yes, hypothetically, if a person had done some further research into werewolf lore on pack dynamics and found that the concept of an omega is mildly terrifying considering two of their friends happen to meet some of the defining criteria- a new alpha without a pack and a new beta whose crazy alpha is gone- and determined that the way to prevent them becoming omegas is to solidify the pack, would you say that sounds like a logical progression of things?”

“And by solidify the pack, you mean…?”

“Well, for starters, Scott needs an alpha. You could be the friendly, neighborhood alpha.” Stiles states as evenly as possible as he watches Derek’s eyebrows ascend towards his hairline.

At Derek’s silence, Stiles starts digging around the bag of snacks, if only for something to do besides trying to parse out Derek’s thoughts from his face.

“I-” Derek finally starts after an awkwardly long pause, “If that’s something Scott wants, would trust me with, I think I could. You’re right that we’re both riding a fine line right now, but I don’t want to pressure him. He has to want to be pack. Pack is- it’s-”

“Like family.” Stiles finishes for him.

Derek nods and grabs a bag of pretzels from the Gas’n’Sip bag, if only to not be looking up at Stiles. They’ve mastered the art of avoiding one another’s gaze. He did not miss how Stiles, in his hypothetical, counted him as a friend and had nicely glossed over the fact that Peter was dead at Derek’s own hands, simply stating that he was gone. He was gone. And Derek should feel alone, feel the weight of that. He does a bit, but not as much as he should. Not sitting here next to a safe and alive Stiles, watching him tear into and devour food he’d brought for him, the teen’s scent losing that heavy note of anxiety and shifting into a calm happy tone.

“I know that’s asking a lot. Thank you for being willing, for considering it.” Stiles says quietly, a stark contrast the the loud crinkling of the fritos bag he’s balling up in his hand under the misguided impression that he can make the shot to the trash can in the kitchen from where they’re seated on the couch. “The lore says, though, that the bigger the pack the stronger you all are. So, I was thinking, there’s this girl I know. She’s in my grade, in my AP classes, and she just got out of the hospital today. She had a seizure in gym the other day, has had epilepsy for years. I talked to her in the library today, to check and see if she’s doing better because hell if I know how that shit works but I’m sure she feels like shit and that was probably a terrible thing to ask her because obviously she’s not okay but, Derek, she told me her meds aren’t as effective as they should be and the doctors can’t up her dose or give her anything else. She’s out of options and she’s miserable. She’s bright and funny and so fucking miserable, it’s unfair.”

Derek knows where he’s going with this and is torn between bolting at the enormity of it and resting his head on Stiles’ shoulder to comfort his internal freakout. He doesn’t do either. Scott he knows. Scott has been a decent listener, more to Stiles than to Derek, but at least he knows him. Scott is Stiles’ family by choice and Stiles is Derek’s mate, he accepted them as a package deal from the start. But this- this is something completely different.

“I didn’t say anything to her, please don’t freak out. But, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, I think you should think about offering her the gift of the bite now that you’re an alpha. You need a pack and honestly, that werewolfy healing would make her life so much better. I know it’s not your job to save everyone or open Hale’s Hospital for Teens with Chronic Conditions and Maladies, but before you freak on me just listen. You’re young, dude, barely older than me. No adult werewolf is going to take a look at you- even with that jacket you wear like armor and that extremely sweet ride- and vote for you as their alpha. The only people likely to answer to a young alpha are younger betas. Obviously I’m not advocating for open buffet hour on Beacon Hills High, but like maybe we could vet out who could most benefit from it. Like make it mutually beneficial? Like she can heal and not deal with the debilitating epilepsy anymore and you get a beta, strengthening the pack?”

Stiles is not wrong and Derek fucking hates that. He hates how old and young he feels at the same time. Hates that this is his responsibility now, how it even came to be so. Misses his mother, his sisters, his home full of family, the security of knowing so many people you loved and trusted would show up for you no matter what.

Stiles must sense a shift in the energy of the room because he knocks his shoulder into Derek’s purposefully as he leans forward for the remote to put a movie on. He says quietly, settling back into the comfortable cushions of the couch, “Name’s Erica Reyes. Google her or something, get whatever background info you need, but please consider talking to her. I know you can never replace the family you lost, and I’m not asking you to. Some things never heal, some things are irreplaceable- but just, just like think about the possibility for me, would ya.”

It reminds Derek of what his mother said to Cora, too many years ago now, with the passing of Stiles’ mom but he doesn’t say it out loud as he hears her words echo through his head, “ _Wounds like this don’t heal like a cut or a scrape. Things like this are a deep hurt and they take a long time to heal. Sometimes it never does._ ”

The loss of his family, especially Laura and now Peter, weigh heavily on him. It will never go away entirely, but it can get better with time. But sitting here, comfortably nestled next to Stiles who’s diving into the rest of the snack bag with fervor, he feels like maybe it’s time to start healing. Time to start letting himself be okay.

Just like that Stiles gently drops the subject and they polish off the rest of the snacks before the end of Prisoner of Azkaban.

 

***

 

By the next full moon, Derek is growing into being an alpha. He’s not fully comfortable in his skin just yet but with Stiles by his side, and he’s definitely present as often as possible when he’s not at school, he feels like he can do this. Like he belongs in Beacon Hills again.

Stiles, Scott and Derek help Erica through her first full moon. They function fluidly, teamwork growing stronger and easier the more time they spend together whether it’s practicing control or mocking Stiles’ design choices in the house Derek bought halfway between Scott and Stiles homes. They call it the Pack House amongst themselves, even though it’s Derek’s, but nobody’s calling it the Hale House.

Derek can afford furniture, has his inheritance to keep him afloat til he settles into more of a normal flow of life, but Stiles insists on bringing random things for each room. The green pleather armchair and fraying couch in the living room room, Stiles picks. The bright blue glass blossom bowl in the center of the dining room table, filled with random rocks and pine cones from their trips out to the preserve, is a Stiles pick. The mismatching vintage plates, cups and cutlery from Salvation Army ( _“_ They were on _sale_ , Derek. And they were _lonely_. I had to get them and bring them home.”) were also a Stiles pick.

The tall wooden lamp shaped like a medieval knight in the master bedroom, a Stiles pick. Atrocious patched throw pillows on all the beds, Stiles. Other little trinkets appeared around the house almost without Derek’s notice, except for the fact that when they appeared they slowly made the space feel (and smell) less like an empty house and more like a home, more like Stiles.

By the start of the next season, they had welcomed more pack members. Isaac Lahey was the next to join after Erica, followed by Vernon Boyd. They did their first full moon together, helped along by the pack, and by their second they were ready to run the preserve together. Stiles, though human, kept pace well enough thanks to his steady regimen of cross country practice and Coach Finstock’s love of having them run countless  laps at lacrosse practice.

Derek doubled back a few times to run specifically with him, stopped with him when Stiles needed a break while the others got their energy out in extreme games of tag, hide and seek, and capture the flag. His heart felt full for the first time in the longest time.

And sometimes, when the moonlight hit just right as he watched over his exhilarated betas, Stiles would look over at him and he thought he could see that flicker of _something_ , just as he had that first time he had flashed his own eyes at Stiles while standing at the ruins of his old home. He still feels that sense of _mine-mine-mine-safe-mine-mine-mine_ every time he’s with Stiles, has conveniently not taught the betas just what that chemosignal he must be throwing out is. It’s such a constant, they may well just assume it is inherent in pack. Either way, he’s not touching that subject.

 

***

 

As they roll into summer, just days after Stiles and Erica’s Batman and Catwoman themed joint birthday, another pack rolls into town. Scott and Isaac notice first, on the northern edge of town when they’re picking up Thai take away from the new place that opened up, they pick up trace scent trails of something other. Isaac calls Derek and Scott calls Stiles, they’re both there with ten minutes.

Derek’s torn between happiness at Stiles’ repeatedly showing up for and supporting the pack, making them a clear priority, and being upset that at the first sign of possible trouble Stiles has dangerously thrown himself on the front lines with no real defenses.

“Whatcha got, guys?” Stiles asks, hand in one pocket as he strolls over quickly from his old blue jeep.

Scott and Isaac look to Derek who takes a deep breath in and pauses for a moment to sort through it all. He reigns in the flashing of his eyes as he looks to them, “Wolves. Good catch.” He grasps each of his betas on the shoulder, a physical reassurance and praise at the same time.

Stiles, catching the plural there and hand twitching in his pocket, adds on, “How many? Any way to tell if they’re friend or foe from a scent trail?”

Derek shakes his head, “Not exactly. We can either trace it back as far as we can or we can wait til they make themselves known. They could be just passing through. But we will know soon enough.” He quirks an eyebrow and looks down to Stiles’ hand in his pocket, “Seriously, Stiles? Mountain ash?”

“Hey, you never know!”

 

***

 

The small pack had been passing through. The next pack to come to Beacon Hills is not.

A letter arrives at the Pack House, hand-delivered by a high school-aged kid that Stiles briefly recognizes from one of the travel lacrosse tournaments up north. He delivers it on a weeknight a week before the full moon when the whole pack is over. Erica and Stiles are forcing them the sit through at least once Star Wars movie after their afternoon of what Isaac and Scott have dubbed “ridiculous meditation techniques” that Stiles had read about that was supposed to both help them keep their shift under control in stressful situations and also to help them channel their inner wolf at times when it is needed for a boost.

Derek vaguely recalls something about that being proper pack etiquette, sending the least threatening member of the visiting pack as messenger and presenting a gift to address the presiding pack or something like that. His brain checks right out when he opens the small package first. It’s a disgusting, smelly tea. He knows it’s a tea, at least, flashing back momentarily to his mother. The rest of the pack, even Stiles, start gagging. Though Stiles, at least, looks less questioning than the others, almost as if he also recognizes it somehow too.

He opens the letter, already knowing who it will be from because there's only one person who ever brought that tea to his mother. Knowing who it's from does not prepare him for the contents of the letter. He is not expecting what it says and drops to sitting on the porch steps. Whatever propriety he was supposed to be displaying for his young pack and the visiting pack member going right out the window.

“Derek?” Stiles questions as quietly as he can, pointless really because literally everyone else present has enhanced hearing. He’s always at Derek’s right, his right hand in so many ways. He may not be a wolf but he absolutely acts the role of the second and the betas, following Derek’s lead, treat him as such. Inherently pack.

He reaches to give Derek’s right shoulder a comforting squeeze, passes a hand over the nape of his neck in a comforting gesture. It’s doubly comforting because he’s scenting Derek, marking him as his, even if he doesn’t realize it. The kid’s eyes widen at the move because touching an alpha’s neck is not something to be taken lightly but it's Stiles.

Derek welcomes the touch, leans into it briefly before he slightly lifts the letter in his hand for Stiles to take. He can feel Stiles relief at this, he'd obviously been dying to see what had elicited such a reaction but he held back until the information was offered to him. One never takes from an alpha unless the alpha willingly gives, that at least they all remember in the presence of company. The betas hang back until Stiles, too, drops to sitting on the step next to Derek, leans into his side and tries in vain to do the calming breathing techniques they spent all afternoon practicing. It must work because he recollects himself before Derek does, at least.

“What is the meaning of this?” Stiles says, a hard edge to his voice that has Derek feeling both wonderfully warmed by the protectiveness of and also acutely alert for any hint of danger here. That’s his business tone and they’re all trained to listen the fuck up when Stiles whips it out, so he doesn’t do it often. He'd referred to it as his Pavlov voice in training once and Erica smacked him upside his head. It was quickly renamed.

The kid, to his credit, looks extremely nervous from this entire exchange, “Uh, well, uh- I’m sorry, this is my first time doing this, I’m sorry- I, um, I come bearing a token gift from Alpha Satomi Ito. She wishes to return what has been lost.” The kid looks like he’s reciting from a memorized script. He takes a deep breath and runs a nervous hand through his hair, “Listen, I’m just supposed to deliver that and then hopefully return with the message that we have your permission to stay, that we’ll be safe in Beacon Hills, or at least that you’ll meet with Satomi- um, Alpha Ito, to discuss the possibility.”

Stiles looks like he’s cataloguing everything about this kid, Sherlock style, and is about to lay into him but Derek puts a halting hand out, “Yes.”

“Yes?” The kid queries.

“Please have Alpha Ito come at her earliest convenience, now even, if she can. She has always been welcomed by the Hales,” and with that he stands with a nod and goes inside, beckoning the betas in and closing only the screen door behind them as a sign of welcome.

He can tell they’re itching for answers but it’s Stiles, who walked right in and slumped onto the couch, that needs his attention right now. That they both were affected by the letter in the face of an unfamiliar pack probably wasn’t good form, but seriously.

“Hey,” Derek says, voice rough. He kneels on the floor in front of Stiles, a hand braced on each knee and squeezing each gently in reassurance. “Satomi, she was a friend of my mother’s and- if there’s a chance- I mean, I don’t think she would just say something like that. She could really be-”

“Alive. After all this time?” Stiles looks at him like the rest of the world does not exist, leans forward to rest his forehead on Derek’s shoulder. “Jesus, Derek.”

“Just take a breath. What would that Koru Mindfulness book tell you right now? The present moment is a gift so be present in the moment, or something?” Derek says, earning a smirk from Stiles who has pushed back off of him to look at the very confused faces of the four betas.

“Fun story,” Stiles begins, taking a steadying breath, “It is somewhat possible that Cora survived the fire and is back in town with a pack from the north. Our almighty alpha just issued an open invite to her and this place looks like a teenage wasteland so we should maybe straighten up if we’re about to be handling werewolf dignitaries.”

Derek rolls his eyes and stands up, looking around the house. Stiles isn’t wrong in that it is kind of trashed. The guys do not comment, other than a flash of recognition on Scott’s face at Cora’s name.

“Yes, mom,” Erica snarks before throwing trash bags at Scott and Isaac, the vacuum at Boyd, and then standing back to supervise from afar.

 

***

 

Satomi visits that evening, bringing her second with her and scoping out the pack. They had heard from the smaller pack that had passed through town that a Hale Alpha was back in control of the territory with an established pack, that Beacon Hills was safe.

She makes the stinky tea, which Derek and Stiles drink to be polite. Stiles eyes are alight with recognition at the first sip; his mom used to drink this tea. It was a special gift from a friend, she had said. Satomi, it seems, was a friend of both their mothers. Over the stinky tea and some actually tasty oatmeal cookies that Isaac whips up, Satomi explains that she would like to return her pack to Beacon Hills once more, with their blessing.

There is a coming storm, she says. A powerful Alpha named Deucalion is making some waves and decimating packs up north. Her pack is mostly young families with children now, a few older adults like her. They don’t have the means to defend themselves against the whispers they have heard. Together they will, Derek assures her. The packs can peacefully coexist once more, just as they had when Derek was younger.

When the formal negotiations are complete and Stiles has very patiently followed Derek’s lead, he breaks.

“Where’s Cora?” Stiles asks more sharply than he probably intended.

Satomi doesn’t take offense. She actually smiles, must like the fierce protectiveness that’s visible in the set of his shoulders and the chemosignals wafting off of him right now. She looks between Derek and Stiles like she _knows_ everything that Derek’s never said out loud, and maybe she does. She nods her approval to her second who leaves the house altogether.

“It was never my intent to keep her from you, only to keep her safe.” She says before quietly returning to her tea.

Derek and Stiles share a look that speaks volumes. Her second returns about ten minutes later with a girl about Stiles’ age. Derek hears them before he sees them. Her head is bowed on the walk in, long hair cascading around her like a curtain, but he can’t tell if it’s some form of submission or what. She looks up when she enters the living room and both Stiles and Derek see her eyes are brimming with tears.

As much as Stiles wants to hug her, to reassure himself that his friend is really here and really alive, he knows Derek needs it more. His sister is right there. Alive. Not dead. He is not alone. He is not the sole surviving Hale. And he’s on her in an instant, gathering her up and petting down the length of her much longer locks of hair in the same comforting way he’d learned from their mother.

“I thought you were dead. I thought you were dead.” He murmurs into her hair, holding her tight with one arm and stroking her hair with the other. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Cor.”

She shakes her head against his now wet chest and pulls back a bit to wipe at the tears with her hand. “I ran. I left my book by my tree and I woke up in a panic because it was going to rain and I didn’t want it to be ruined. I went to get it and when I came back it was- I couldn’t get past the line- I ran. I ran until Satomi found me. She uprooted her whole pack to keep me safe, Derek. Can we please stay? Can we please come back to Beacon Hills?”

“Already sorted,” he promises her. “You’re safe here. Satomi’s pack is always welcome here.”

“We owe you a great debt.” Stiles says to the female alpha.

“To find a place to call home again is all we ask.” She nods to him, then stands to exit with her second. “Cora, you know where to find us when you’re ready.”

Cora nods in understanding and watches her go before turning her gaze to Stiles while she’s still firmly entrenched in Derek’s arms. “Stiles? What the hell?”

Stiles shrugs and then gives into the temptation to hug her now that there’s less of an audience. Derek backs up a bit to give them space, only just relinquishing his hold.

“Your expansive knowledge of nature a) makes way more sense now and b) is a super unfair advantage. Werewolves, Cora? Werewolves!” He grins and hugs her tighter, and she him before pushing him off gently and punching him in the shoulder.

She looks around the room, only really recognizes Scott and clearly starts a bit at the realization he’s a wolf. The expressions flickering over her face produce an interesting narrative that ends on a note of _well, that explains Stiles_ and helps herself to the cookies.

 

***

 

The pack takes to Cora instantly. Erica, Stiles & Cora are often together, even when it's not a scheduled pack time. Scott has work at the vet clinic and a crush he keeps making puppy eyes at that the rest of the pack teases him ceaselessly over. Boyd and Isaac keep their summer jobs and show up when they're supposed to for training and movie nights. Cora, in turn, introduces them to Satomi's pack and helps them to become acquainted. When school starts in the fall, Derek knows the teens of two packs will stick together and keep an eye on the younger ones as well.

Deucalion comes and goes just the same as the change in seasons. In the face of a territory peacefully held by two collaborating packs with two strong alphas and the resident old hunting family who make their presence known, he chooses the path of least resistance and that means moving right along out of town before summer’s over. Given what Satomi and her pack had said of his path of destruction, Derek had been expecting more of a fight from the twisted alpha of the alpha pack.

They hear after the fact that a druid, a darach if Deaton can be believed, had been hot on their heels and eliminated the threat on the eve of a lunar eclipse before they could decimate another pack. Cora thinks it sounds like vigilante justice and is totally fine with that outcome. Stiles looks at the photos from the scene and calls it as the vengeance kill it is. Either way, they determine it’s not a threat to their pack and carry on with life.

The packs also handle a few more troublesome happenings over the following school year. Scott finally starts dating the youngest Argent, Allison, and their relations with the hunters grow slightly less strained as she, Cora and Satomi guide things in a more positive direction. There’s a brief stint with a kanima but they figure it out together and Jackson, and subsequently Lydia, join the pack.

Jackson had returned from spring break having been bitten following a bar fight with a lone alpha and they helped him find himself again. He's surprisingly more chill once he truly trusts them, but he can still be just as much a dick as Stiles. Cora says it's like the elementary school playground all over again, but the whole pack gets along more often than not.

All in all, it is actually somewhat peaceful. Derek’s happy here and he feels whole in a way that he didn’t think would ever be possible when he left Beacon Hills.

The weekend after Stiles’ next birthday, they’ve just made a peace treaty with some wood sprites who’ve taken over a portion of the preserve and the betas are suspiciously absent from the house. There’s yet another Harry Potter movie marathon on tv and Stiles is picking through the candy selection set out on the coffee table before him, tosses a bag of peanut M&M’s at Derek’s face assuming he’d catch them and falls off the couch laughing when he doesn’t.

It’s just that he was really tired from being up all night, they were sitting really close, Stiles had a hand on his knee, and just looked really beautiful with the morning light peeking in through the blinds over him- so Derek was distracted, okay. Stiles had always been touchy, possibly touchier with Derek than the others. Stiles always initiated, but he didn’t know that it meant something. It was fine. Really. Derek wouldn’t change anything. If this is how he gets to have him, at least he gets to have him in his life in some way. It's fine.

He rolls his eyes and picks up the fallen packet of candy, “I take it back. No candy for breakfast. I’m taking back all the candy.”

Stiles rubs the tears from his eyes, still sprawled on the floor, “No problemo, I still have like half that sheet cake Isaac made me in the fridge and I’ll get my sugar fix without you. I won’t even share.” He pulls himself up with a hand on Derek’s knee, traces his hand up the arm and over Derek’s shoulder as he skips off to the kitchen to retrieve his cake. It’s ok, Derek tells himself for the millionth time, he doesn’t know what it means.

Stiles sets the cake on the coffee table with one fork sticking out the middle of it then plops himself right on Derek, who's still holding the M&M’s, and fast forwards through the previously paused commercial break to get right to the movie. He reaches over periodically to fork up some cake and doesn’t share for a good five minutes. With the next bite, he holds the fork up to Derek as Remus Lupin starts transforming beside the Whomping Willow.

“Trade you some cake for an M&M?”

Derek opens his mouth to speak but Stiles shoves the cake in and steals the candy right out of his hand.

“Best birthday weekend ever.” He proclaims happily, eating way more than just one of his stolen M&M’s. He drops the now empty bag on the coffee table next to the cake when he pauses the next commercial break.

“You know I own these, right? We could just watch them without the commercials.” Derek says, choosing to not address the fact that Stiles is carelessly sprawled over him because Stiles is clearly not addressing it either.

“You know I do massive amounts of research right?” Stiles comments back instead.

“Uh, yes? Obviously. What does that have to do with commercials?” Derek frowns at him, lost.

“You know that I know _exactly_ what it means when I leave my things here, when we bring each other food, when I do this?” He says, runs his hand up Derek’s arm again to stroke the nape of his neck.

Derek can’t breathe. Does Stiles really know? Has he been like this _intentionally_?

“Oh my god, Cora was right. You are an idiot.” Stiles says, tone soft and a warm smile gracing his features.

Derek splutters and frowns at that. What even?

“You know what’s better than homemade birthday cake?” Stiles asks as he sits up and breaks the contact from where he’d been sprawled.

“What’s that?” Derek says, heart pounding though he can hear that Stiles is chill and collected as can be.

“You.”

And then Stiles is pulling him closer by the hand he’s slid up to the back of his neck and they’re kissing. Stiles is right, it is absolutely better than birthday cake. Even Isaac’s.

“God, I’m fucking cheesy.” Stiles laughs as the break apart and Derek smiles back at him.

“But it works for you.” Derek says, leaning in to kiss him again.

The cake, candy, and movie marathon are forgotten until they break apart again. Stiles is radiating happiness. He reaches up, cupping Derek’s face, and looks at him like he’s the most important thing in the world in this moment.

“I can’t believe that line worked.” Stiles laughs, dropping his head into the crook of Derek’s neck and muffling his laughter.

Derek can feel the smile pressed into his skin and can’t believe he gets to have this, that he’s allowed this, that he’s wanted. He gently raises a hand to the back of Stiles’ neck, allowing himself the comfort he thought he would never get in this way. His mind is contentedly thrumming with the normal chorus of _mine-mine-mine-safe-mine-mine-mine_.

Stiles places a hand over Derek’s heart, like the total sap he apparently is, and says, “Mine?”

Derek places his own hand over Stiles and nods, “Yes. Always yours.”

They’re here. They’re happy. Their pack is safe. They’re loved. And _this_ is the best feeling.  His mom was right when she said some wounds never heal, but when you’re surrounded with the right people you can soothe the ache. He’s still healing his old wounds but he’s come a long way. He’s finally found his home, here with his mate and with his pack. This isn’t what Derek came back to Beacon Hills for but it is exactly what he needed and he couldn’t ask for anything more.

**Author's Note:**

> So there you have it, my first Sterek Smooch Fest. Thanks for coming along for the ride. If there's anything here that stood out to you, I'd love to hear it. 
> 
> _moje kochanie_ = my darling, Polish
> 
> Gas'n'Sip was an unintentional SPN reference. I'm sure Steve makes the best post-10pm coffee. Sherlock reference because Stiles absolutely watches crime solving shows and you know it. He derives great joy from nitpicking procedural cop shows. Buffy and Harry Potter references because, again, you know Stiles definitely watches this stuff. 
> 
> Further plot discussion and scene commentary by the author and the prompter in the comments below. 
> 
> Immense thanks again to my fabulous fandom friend/beta swlfangirl without whom this definitely would not have been done anywhere close to on time.
> 
>  
> 
> (Fest Mod Note: This work was created for the 2018 Sterek Smooch Fest. Please follow the fest on [LJ](https://sterek-smooch.livejournal.com/) or [TUMBLR](https://sterek-smooch.tumblr.com/) to see the rest of the fabulous creations! Thank you!)


End file.
